Chapter 12 - Unit 214Marisol told us not to go to the storage facility.
Then she paused.
Then she said, “Actually, Daniel can go. Claire, you stay where police can find you if the judge calls.”
So I stayed.
It was one of the hardest things I had done all day.
As a paramedic, movement had always been medicine. Run toward the crash. Open the airway. Stop the bleeding. Do something. Waiting felt like being strapped to a stretcher while someone else searched for the wound.
Daniel left with copies of the storage unit photos.
Andrew sat in the living room with Officer Greene nearby, pretending he was calm. Lorraine sat on the opposite end of the sofa, no longer touching him. That distance seemed to bother him more than my silence.
He kept glancing at her.
She kept looking at the floor.
At 4:02 p.m., my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered on speaker.
“I’m at the facility,” he said. “Unit 214 exists. It’s rented under Clayton Reeves’ company.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
Daniel continued, “Facility manager says the unit was accessed yesterday at 6:41 p.m.”
Yesterday.
While Andrew was supposedly checking a plumbing leak.
Daniel’s voice lowered. “Claire, I can’t enter without authorization. But I can see through a gap near the floor.”
“What do you see?”
A pause.
“Boxes. A rolled rug. File crates. And what looks like framed photographs.”
“Of what?”
“I can’t tell.”
Andrew stood. “This is harassment.”
Officer Greene said, “Sit down.”
He did.
Barely.
Daniel said, “There’s something else. A trash bin behind the facility has shredded documents. Some pieces show your name.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
Marisol cut in on the conference line. “Do not touch the documents without gloves. Photograph in place. Daniel, call me separately after you document.”
Andrew laughed, but his voice cracked. “You people are insane. Garbage? Storage units? This is a witch hunt.”
Lorraine looked at him.
“What did you shred?”
“Nothing.”
“Andrew.”
He turned on her. “Don’t start acting like you’re on her side.”
Lorraine recoiled.
The old Lorraine would have fought me in that moment. She would have defended him simply because he was hers.
But the woman on my sofa looked tired.
Very tired.
Maybe motherhood had blinded her for decades, but betrayal had a way of restoring sight brutally.
At 4:29 p.m., Marisol called again.
“The judge granted temporary exclusive occupancy pending a hearing.”
I closed my eyes.
Andrew shot to his feet. “What does that mean?”
Marisol’s voice came through steady and clear.
“It means, Mr. Parker, that until the hearing, you are to vacate Claire Morgan’s residence. Law enforcement can supervise removal of personal essentials.”
Lorraine gasped.
Andrew stared at the phone.
“You can’t do that.”
“The court can.”
“I’m her husband.”
“And she is the titled owner who reported an assault in the home and presented evidence of financial misconduct.”
His face flushed dark red.
“This is my life.”
“No,” I said. “It was mine. You were living in it.”
Officer Greene stood. “Mr. Parker, you need to gather essentials.”
Andrew looked at me then with such hatred that I finally understood how close I had been to danger for longer than one morning.
“You’ll regret this.”
Officer Greene stepped closer. “Do not threaten her.”
Andrew smiled bitterly. “That wasn’t a threat. That was a prediction.”
Lorraine whispered, “Andrew, stop.”
He looked at her with disgust.
“You too?”
She flinched again.
Then she stood.
“I want my purse,” she said.
Officer Greene nodded. “You can collect essentials as well.”
Lorraine looked at me.
“I will leave.”
Those three words were not an apology.
But they were surrender.
Andrew stormed upstairs under police supervision. Every footstep sounded like a man trying to bruise the house before leaving it.
Lorraine remained in the living room, twisting a tissue in her hands.
“Claire,” she said.
I did not answer.
“I did not know about the debt.”
I believed her.
That was the worst part.
“I did not know he was using my name that way.”
“I believe that.”
Her eyes filled.
“But you knew he had another woman.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
“Then whatever else you didn’t know does not save you from what you chose.”
She bowed her head.
Upstairs, Andrew shouted, “Where is my watch box?”
I said nothing.
Lorraine looked toward the stairs.
May you like
Then back at me.
For the first time in two years, she did not call him her baby.
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